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lyric poem

se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
elle était beaucoup et beaucoup d'il y a une année

 



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